Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Not crazy, crazy... just slightly crazy. Of course, I've been told on numerous occasions that crazies don't know they are crazy.. so perhaps I'm not really going crazy? Eeks. I don't even think that sentence made sense. Oh well, it's my blog.

Here's the deal. Since starting round two of the crazy pills (you know, a little prozac never hurt anyone) I just could not care less. I went on them to combat the awful anxiety I possess. Now? I don't even stress about anything. The papers due on Thursday? Eh. They'll get done somehow. The two parent meetings I have tomorrow (parent meetings used to = stress beyond belief)? I'm ready for them. The messy house? Used to knock me off my rocker, which meant I was a bossy biatch, which meant nobody could stand me. Now? The mess will still be there tomorrow. Deadlines? Ahh.. those are nothing.

Here's where the crazy comes in..

I wish I had some part of me that would stress at least a bit. You know, make me care about the papers, meetings, and mess. Nope. Nada. Zero. Zilch. Not a care in the world.

Hopefully I'll find a happy medium. I work best under pressure. Of course, I think that means I have to have some pressure. Not exactly sure where that pressure will come from if I don't put it on myself!

Edited to add: The dogs? They still get my goat. They do stress me out and make me want to poke my eyeballs out. In a good way, of course.